From the Wreckage Take Me Back

Make It Through the Night

Her screams had gone silent, her voice broken beyond repair from the abuse. Her body shook with each sob, tears running down her face along with blood. Drowning her. She thrashed and fought until her once forceful and jerky movements died to mere twitches.

            Her right arm was pinned down by her assailant, burning and aching in pain as the knife dug into her. Her face and chest ached from the slashes there as well, but none were as purposeful or as deep as her arm. If she watched it would only get worse, but she couldn't help the morbid curiosity. The cuts were deep enough to see muscle, even bone in some areas. The letters being carved in were caked with blood. This had been going on long enough that the beginning of the words was drying in the drips that had landed from the knife, and there had been more torture before she had turned to the dagger.

           The cruciatus curse was almost worse than the knife. Every nerve ending was lit on fire and left to burn, over and over again. It made her muscles ache feel as if she had been thrown against a hurricane. With each question left unanswered, Bellatrix would curse her until it was clear the woman wouldn't be receiving a response. The rounds themselves would last for mere minutes, though to Hermione they felt like days. When the curse hit, it was lightning behind her eyes. A vast expanse of black and purple lit up by brief, blinding flashes. She wondered if she would ever be able to see as clearly as before. She would never be able to be as whole as she was that same morning. It was a blessing that they hadn't eaten for days, surely, she would have vomited otherwise.

          Questions and questions and questions. Each left unanswered. Each unanswered question punished, pushed, and prompted.

           I can't let her in. Harry needs to stay safe. This will all be over when Harry wins. Harry needs to stay safe. I can't let her in.

           "Come on little Mudblood!" Bellatrix's voice rose above her own screams. "Where. Did. You. Get. That. Sword." Each words was punctuated with the dagger digging deeper into Hermione's supple flesh. "Where!" Bellatrix was frantic with rage, her pitch black hair a frizzing halo around her sallow skin.

         I'm going to die here.

         Hermione took as deep a breath as she was able, her chest rose unevenly with it, no matter how shallow. She looked to the ornate ceiling, covered in moulding and gold leaf. Through the blackened corners of her sight, she could the Malfoy family standing watch. Lucius's face revealed nothing. Narcissa looked as though she were mad that Hermione's blood was staining the marble floors. And Draco. Draco looked sick. To the Malfoy's right, Fenrir Greyback stood ready to take his pound of flesh after Bellatrix. Hermione had heard him claim her next, to see if "the uptight mudblood was tight everywhere". Outside of her own wheezes and sobs, Hermione could hear Harry and Ron screaming for her in the dungeon. Don't worry boys. I made sure you're safe. I'll miss you. I'm sorry you have to lose another person, Harry. I'll tell Snuffles you say hello.

          Privately, Hermione made a silent prayer to whatever god was listening. If I give my sacrifice, you WILL make sure that good will win out. I won't let myself die in vain. Harry must win. Voldemort must die. Whatever it takes. Please. With those words she took her last breath, eyes closing to the image of everything that stood against her. Finally, peace.

——

There was so much noise - too much noise.

           She heard screaming in voices that didn't belong to her, what sounded like a million voices circling her. The ground was hard and cold, but it wasn't as smooth as the marble floor she had been on. It was rough and gritty, like how pavement feels when you try to push yourself up off it. She couldn't moved if she even tried to. Death was much more painful than what she had imagined.